To Catch a Criminal Genius
by Serallena
Summary: A year after the LABB Murder Cases, a string of suicides leaves the FBI baffled. With nowhere else to turn, Agent Naomi Misora must enlist the aid of Beyond Birthday. NaomixBB.
1. Reunion

The tapping from the heels of Naomi's boots echoed through the vacant hallways. No one ever visited the restricted wing; no one ever got authorization.

But this was a special case. At the end of the final, long hall, Naomi flashed her I.D. to the armed guard blocking the door, who stepped aside without a word. She took a deep breath. Every little sound was amplified by the dead silence of this place, this place that was so carefully shut away from the outside world, it was hard to believe it existed. The door slid open with a hiss.

Four feet in front of her was a glass wall – the wall of the highest-security cell in the California. And its occupant, staring at her with those dead eyes, looked as though he'd been waiting for her to arrive for some long-overdue meeting. "Miss Misora, long time no see."

Naomi glanced down, averting her eyes from his unnerving gaze, from the unsightly burns that scarred his face, as she pulled out a manila folder from under her arm. "This file contains the information from our investigation of a current murder case," Naomi said in the most even, authoritative voice she could muster. "This series of deaths is leaving the authorities at a loss. There is no doubt that they are connected." – she forced herself to look up – "But they are all suicides."

"And you are coming to me because…?" He asked, something in his voice made Naomi sure he already knew. She swallowed and answered nonetheless.

"It takes a criminal genius to catch a criminal genius."

***

"But Miss Misora…have you not already captured a 'criminal genius'?" There was slight amusement in B's tone, and Naomi suspected that he considered the implication that he was a criminal genius to be a compliment. She glared at him ineffectually.

"I wasn't working alone, if you recall. But as of yet, L has not taken an interest in this case. And the FBI, quite frankly, has no where else to turn," She hadn't meant for it to come out like that, sound so pathetic, but, there it was.

"And neither do you, it seems, Miss Misora." Naomi fingered the gun at her hip, wanting to blow that creepy smile off his face. But she swallowed her pride – innocent lives were at stake, so this was no time to get caught up in his subtle teasing. No use getting angry; she'd have to play along.

"…Yes. But that is beside the point, as far as you are concerned. What you should be more worried about is what the FBI can do to you if you do not wish to cooperate," B's eyes swept his cell, and then settled back on Naomi.

"Do you believe death would be anything but mercy as an alternate to this fate?" Naomi was caught off-guard, and stopped to consider. What could be worse then waiting endless decades in silent, empty nothingness for your own life to expire, with your own insanity as your only company? Just as she realized threats of death would be useless and decided to give up, B spoke again.

"Very well, Miss Misora. If only for a respite from this purposeless void, I will aid in the investigation."

* * *

Author Notes: I started this story ages ago, deleted it along with everything else on my FF account, and am returning to it now, having been recently inspired. In case a few of you were wondering about that déjà vu.


	2. Anniversary

Was it relief she felt then, or entirely the opposite? Everything about the man behind the glass filled her with the urge to _run, _to put as much distance as possible between herself and him. Those memories of working side by side with this, this _lunatic…_it made Naomi's skin crawl and her stomach rebel – feeling the danger that had long since passed, a delayed reaction to freefall when she was safely on the ground.

She stared back at B. He seemed to be patiently waiting, but beneath the façade was something else…a challenge, a dare of sorts. She had proposed the partnership to him, yes, but did she have the guts to follow through when he surprised her with his agreement? _Maybe_, thought Naomi, _this isn't_…No. She wouldn't allow herself to feel fear of him. He was on one side of the glass and she was on the other; it was as simple as that. And even if she found his mannerisms disconcerting (and she did; annoying and disconcerting both), it was her professional duty solve this case. And a more personal duty as well.

Curling her upper lip, Agent Misora focused her gaze on Beyond Birthday, met his eyes without flinching. "Good. Let's start right now."

He nodded slowly, then tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "Very well. The details of the case, please." Naomi leafed through the manila folder for the official summary and specs, though by now she knew the case inside and out. After all the hours she'd spent staring at those files, reading them over and over again through all hours of the night, upside down and backwards, it was hard to believe that even Beyond Birthday would be able to find a clue she'd missed. But then, that's what she'd thought of Rue Ryuzaki during the investigation of the Los Angeles case, _his _case, as well…

"The first suicide was Daniel Lee's in Palm Springs, at approximately 9 PM on July 4th." The words came out slightly strangled – while Daniel Lee was hanging himself, Ray Penber was proposing to her. She continued, attempting to appear as unfazed as B did, checking her reflection briefly in the glass with his face blurry in the background. She focused on him again.

"When the police came for his body the next morning, they found his uncle Anthony's as well – the second suicide. Daniel and his little sister had been living with him for about two years after the death of their parents in 2001. He was their only known relative." She paused, pulling Anthony Lee's picture out of the manila folder for B to examine, as if the photograph of the man and his chalk outline held some kind of clue. Evidently, he didn't believe it did, as he closed the one eye he'd opened with mild disinterest. Naomi moved on, deciding to omit the rest of the pictures unless he asked to see them.

"Two friends of Daniel's uncle, Robert Harvey and Paul Young came to stay at the house to take care of Daniel's sister while the authorities looked for somewhere she could stay. They were found dead on the 7th, at around one in the morning, having both committed suicide approximately five hours earlier.

"It gets even…odder…at this point," Naomi struggled for the word to describe her own puzzlement at this stage of the investigation. "Daniel's sister was moved to foster care in Riverside that day, and two days later, her schoolteacher from Palm Springs committed suicide as well." She looked up to see if there was a change in B's expression. There was none. He simply sat, eyes closed, in a modified version of the bizarre posture she remembered – leaning back against the wall of his cell instead of forward. A bubble of rage grew inside Misora. "You'd better not be sleeping in there-"

"Rest assured, Miss Misora, I am awake. Please, continue," he said, startling her slightly. She glanced away, away from that face mottled with burn-scars. They were on his hands, too. On his bare feet, even. "Dr. John Sampson at the hospital where Daniel's sister was attending therapy sessions…he committed suicide on the 11th. However, he wasn't her doctor – in fact, he had no contact with the family or other suicide victims that we've found." She looked back at B. One eye was partially opened now.

"Those are the basics. We – the FBI – have been investigating since the day after death of Anthony Lee. It's been twenty-four days since the most recent of the suicides, and we have no viable leads."

B had both eyes open now, his dead black eyes meeting her live ones. Silence hung for a few seconds, and Naomi grew fidgety. "If you're don't think you'll be of any help for this investigation-"

"No, no, I intend on thinking it over tonight. Or whatever time it is. My internal clock has never been the best, and this room is the same all the time..." That explained the bags under his eyes – trying to sleep on the floor of a brightly-lit cell. Though she seemed to remember them there before…

I was strange; Beyond Birthday sounded almost conversational despite the topic of his words and present situation. His voice had trailed off, and he'd closed his eyes again. It appeared that he intended to say no more today - or was it tonight? This place seemed to have messed with Naomi's perception of time as well, the stark whiteness blotting out her memory of day and night. Or maybe at was because of that…enigmatic (she didn't want to use that word, a word that seemed almost flattering, but her usually-impressive vocabulary was coming up short) person. The time she'd spent talking to him felt weirdly immeasurable – it could have been minutes, or it could have been hours.

But enough. Naomi started to leave. After a few steps, however (_tap, tap, tap_ on the hall floor), B called out after her. "Oh, Miss Misora!" She turned – had he uncovered some sort of lead already? "Though, as I previously stated, my internal clock is rather faulty at best, based on the dates you've given me…would today happen to be August 15th?"

She blinked. "Y-yes, it is." Was there some significance in that date she'd missed? Naomi wracked her brain for the numbers - dates and times - of the suicides, trying to figure out what was he had deduced. A slow, small smile spread across B's scarred face – monumentally creepy, yes, but somehow there was a slight, underlying _sweetness_ as well… "Then, happy anniversary, Miss Misora."

Agent Misora stared, perplexed by this curious statement. After about five seconds, realization hit her, hard as the first time she saw the photos of 10-year-old Danny Lee hanging from that rope...

Eyes widened, she took two steps back further from the cell through the threshold of the sliding door. Before it even had time to close fully, she turned and ran.

* * *

Author's notes: I hate to spoil the drama by explaining here, but...for those of you who are confused, August 15th is the approximate date that Naomi and B met.


	3. Whatever Remains

When Naomi returned the next day, she found Beyond Birthday balancing a cherry on his tongue. He raised his head slightly in greeting, then popped the cherry in his mouth.

"They send my food through an elevator there," he said, shifting the cherry to one cheek and indicating a small panel on the back wall.

"Nothing with wrappers or peels, of course," he continued casually, as if it was a perfectly ordinary conversation, "and nothing I can't eat with just my hands. You never know what I might do with an empty pudding cup." This may have been sarcasm, but it was hard to tell with his quick, half-muttered speech and the cherry in his mouth. Naomi wondered if it was possible to suffocate yourself with a pudding cup, then shuddered at the thought.

"But it seems someone up there made a mistake, giving me a cherry," B went on, "what with the stem and pit. Do you think I could choke myself with them?" He wasn't addressing Naomi with this question, however – now it seemed he was talking to himself.

"Won't it be something when I send them back up – or is it down? They'll be thrown into hysterics. Unless of course the one who sees is the one who gave me the cherry, and he hasn't realized his mistake- "

"B." He looked up, startled, as if only now remembering Naomi's presence in the room. "Can we continue with the investigation, please?" Naomi said, in a tone much more biting than an actual request would have been – and yet it was a request, of sorts, considering no force besides Beyond Birthday's willingness would allow him to continue.

"Certainly, Miss Misora," he said, sticking out his tongue. On the end of it was the cherry stem, tied in a perfect knot. Naomi made a face when she remembered what that was supposed to mean about a person. At the sight of her disgusted expression, B grinned.

***

"Since you have arrived just as I've finished lunch, it appears that you are late, Miss Misora." Naomi shot him a glare, not recalling them ever agreeing on a time to meet. But it was true; she'd gotten here later than she intended. Naomi had had a restless night. Her dreams – nightmares – had been full of Wara Ningyo, fire, and the day of her biggest blunder in her history as an FBI agent. Staring down the barrel of her gun but unable to fire.

"Have you thought of any possible leads since yesterday?" she asked, half in interrogation-mode, trying to focus the conversation and B back on the matter at hand.

"Ah, yes. It seems to me, Miss Misora, that the method of the killer will reveal itself easily, _after _we deduce his or her identity." B bit his thumbnail, settling back into his sitting position against the wall, waiting for her response.

"Okay," Naomi allowed, "So let's focus on finding the killer. The problem is, as the FBI has already encountered, we are lacking a common link. Someone who had something against Danny's family, his little sister's school teacher, _a random doctor who had never met any of them…_"

"A doctor at the hospital where Daniel's sister was attending therapy sessions," B said flatly. Naomi looked up, first surprised, and then skeptical. It was an odd sort of skeptical, almost like the beginnings of denial.

"Daniel's sister is six years old." Naomi said, trying to imitate – no, _top_, B's flat, matter-of-fact tone. He was not fazed, and he sounded bored with his next response (a condescending sort of bored, like a teacher explaining some simple thing for the hundredth time, a sort of bored that made Naomi want to reach for her gun again).

"You are familiar with Sherlock Holmes, are you not, Miss Misora?" he asked, another rhetorical question. "When you eliminate the impossible…"

"…whatever remains must be the truth," she finished, automatically.

***

* * *

Short and half-arsed, but serves to bridge the gap to the next chapter okay.


	4. Harlequinn

Ray wanted Naomi off the task force. He'd been trying to persuade her to focus on a different case since the day that enlisting the aid of Beyond Birthday was proposed. Before that, even. It seemed as though he was constantly alluding to the idea of Naomi settling down now that they were engaged, leaving the FBI entirely. She had no intention of doing so. Ray was a smart man – if Naomi wasn't ready to retire anytime soon, he would figure that out, and just have to accept it. He _would_ accept it. Ray was smart, and understanding, just the sort of man she'd always intended to marry – was supposed to marry. And she did love him.

But he wanted her off the task force. "Naomi, please, I'm just looking out for your well-being. You've been exhausted since starting this case, and now…I just don't like the idea of you working with some…with this complete psychopath."

"He is a _genius_," she cut in, sharply – where had that sharpness, that vehement defense, come from? Evidently her expression matched her tone, as Ray looked surprised and a little alarmed, and said no more about it. That had been the night of her first day on the case with B.

And now Naomi's fiancée was going to talk to the FBI again, to ask that Naomi be switched over to a different task force. It was at her request. Now, with B's revelations, all the evidence, the investigation…Naomi felt as if it was all beginning to point one direction, and it was a direction she did not want to go. Couldn't even handle admitting to herself.

She'd come home that night, bleary and miserable, with Ray immediately demanding (gently demanding) to know what the problem was. He had picked up on her emotional state at once, which very occasionally annoyed her but was often, as now, one of the things she loved about him. Or else her outward appearance was betraying what she felt, but her pride as an FBI agent preventing her from admitting that – they were supposed to be expressionless, clinical, professional. Able to hide their pain. Now was not the time for professional, however. "Ray…I want off of this case."

***

Beyond Birthday refused to work with anyone else. Only Miss Misora, he said. The director of the FBI was red in the face. "We're this close to a break through, and now the whole investigation is halted! Agent Misora, at least go talk to him! Can you try and convince him to work with another agent?" So Naomi found herself back in the little white room, facing B through the glass wall.

"I wouldn't have taken you for one who'd be scared off, Miss Misora," he said, blunt as ever, though there was something biting beneath that scolding, teasing, indignation that brought Naomi a rush of shame. Shame! From the opinion of the criminally insane man behind the glass! Almost as if _she _was the loony, and the therapist was disappointed in her for reversing the progress they'd made. The shame turned to anger, self-defensive.

"B, my reasons for leaving this case are not for you to-"

"Is it because you fear the outcome?" he cut in, interrupting her as always with his uncanny ability to know what she was thinking (maybe, sometimes, better than she did, for she was less willing to admit certain things to herself). Naomi inhaled sharply at his deduction. B raised an eyebrow.

"Or maybe there's something else, too, that you're running away from…" he said, looking away to a different part of the glass wall.

"This glass…I can see my reflection in it all the time. What I did to myself. It's a punishment befitting of some ancient Greek myth, isn't it? Tantalus' suffering pales in comparison." Naomi thought that was a little egotistical, but…having no escape from the image of your scarred being, burns that represented when the very realization of your most important goals and dreams fell apart...it sounded like a never-ending nightmare, to be sure.

Her eyes followed the path of those scars, from the curled toes on his bare feet, to the hands clasped and resting on his orange-jumpsuit-clad knees. That face – part of the pale complexion he once had showed through behind the red and purple and black. Naomi's gaze drifted to his eyes, where they lingered. Trying to see into that distorted, brilliant mind.

"Do you think it's hideous? Do I horrify you, Miss Misora?" B asked, softly, as if the silence was something physical, fragile, that he wanted to avoid shattering. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed one scarred hand to the glass. Naomi's heart thudded, an internal alarm, as she watched her own hand move on its own accord to the glass, fingertips then palm resting against it, mirroring his. She could feel the warmth of his hand where it –almost– touched hers, through the cold of the glass. _Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump._

Then her wristwatch buzzed (though she'd hardly heard it, with her pulse pounding so loud in her ears), the watch Naomi had starting wearing after her first disorienting day in the white tomb. Ten thirty. She drew her hand back from the glass, thankful and, frighteningly, somehow _disappointed_, for that mechanical reminder bringing her back to Earth. Her breathing was still shaky, from fear and something she did not want to identify.

"We…we'll continue the investigation tomorrow," Naomi stammered, looking at the floor, the wall, the ceiling – anywhere but at B. She gripped the manila case-folder hard enough to leave indentations of her fingernails. She could hear true amusement in B's reply, an indicator that he had recovered from that uncharacteristic…gentleness (_wrong word, wrong word, _Naomi's brain shouted when her vocabulary came up short again).

"Very well. See you tomorrow, Harley."

_Harley? _Naomi Misora found herself backing out of the room again, half of her brain telling her to run, _run_ before she did something more that would send her life spinning totally out of control. She didn't – _wouldn't _– let herself hear what the other half was saying.

* * *

Don't get the chapter title or the nickname? ...Lookit up. D


	5. Interrogation

When Naomi returned the next day, she immediately raised her hand to forestall anything B was about to say. She wanted to cut right to the point, no beating around the bush.

"So, what you're saying is…the investigation leads back to Daniel Lee's six-year-old sister?" Naomi asked, but she knew it herself, known it all along, even. The skepticism and disbelief in her tone was entirely fabricated, and B gave her a dry glance through a single opened eye to indicate that he knew it. Naomi sighed.

He looked up at the ceiling, pondering. "I'd like to meet her." Naomi was horrified at the thought of bringing a little girl to see Beyond Birthday, to see that scarred, discolored face inset with dead, black eyes…but the investigation must go on.

***

Two imposing guards ushered in the little girl in. The way she stumbled and kept looking back with fear in her eyes nearly broke Naomi's heart, but, as she reminded herself, the investigation must go on. The dark-haired waif stumbled again and winced when the guard jerked her by the arm. "_If they hurt her_," Agent Misora hissed under her breath, "_I'll kill them_." It was not an idle threat.

Finally, the guards reached the end of the hall. One of them showed their I.D. to the guard posted at the sliding door, and the other held the girl by the shoulders and spoke to Naomi. "I'm aware that bringing unidentified objects into the restricted wing is against the rules, but she simply refused to let it go," he said, indicating the notebook the girl was carrying. It was small and faded green, bound with a dirty, fraying red ribbon.

"It's…fine. I'm sure a six-year-old's notebook is not a major violation of protocol," Naomi said, feeling a pang of guilt for talking about the girl as if she wasn't there. The guard nodded, and he and his partner took their positions outside the door with the one who checked their I.D. The door slid shut, leaving Naomi, B, and Daniel Lee's little sister alone in the small, white room. B stared at her in silence for an uncomfortable moment.

"Isn't that something." A statement, not a question. "Astounding. She's like the child we never had, Miss Misora." Naomi threw him a look, somewhere between an inquiry and a 'shut up with your nonsense for five minutes, would you?' (leaning more to the latter). Still…yet again during this investigation, she was forced to admit to herself that his peculiar commentary was accurate. That little girl, with her mind as warped as any could get, scarcely connected to what the act of killing entailed…she was like B, a little Beyond Birthday, the premature form of true irreversible insanity.

And yet, it wasn't just B she saw in the girl. Naomi could still see those big, dark, inquisitive eyes staring up, the long black hair shifting against her back when she cocked her head. Agent Misora saw herself in the little girl, a broken self, a version of a favorite childhood fairytale twisted by modern authors who thought the practice trendy.

"Miss…Misora?" Naomi shook herself out of the reverie. It was not B who had spoken, however – it was girl.

"Y-yes, that's me," she said, verifying to the girl that she'd heard her name correctly. Agent Misora knelt down to the little girl. As an FBI agent, she knew better than to let her guard down, but she also knew to trust her instincts – the girl, she could feel, was presenting no danger or hostility to them. Indeed, Naomi sensed that force would be ineffectual if they wanted to communicate with the girl – it'd only scare her. Calmness and kindness were in order if they were to talk to her, and Naomi found that her gentle front wasn't a façade. She felt genuine pity and sympathy for the little girl in front of her, wanted to hug her and tell her that everything was going to be all right. With any luck, it would be. But then again, Naomi Misora was perhaps the unluckiest FBI agent in the world.

"What's your name, sweetie?" It wasn't a condescending 'sweetie', perhaps because Naomi felt no condescension toward the tiny girl. The files said her name was Miriam Lee, but Naomi wanted to be polite, and avoid frightening her by throwing around the authority of knowing too much the way a cop did.

"I'm Miri, Miss Misora," she replied, with a small smile. Naomi found herself smiling a little, too. Though the deaths of half-a-dozen people at the hands of an orphaned young girl was hardly something to smile in the face of.

"Miri, what's that you have there?" she asked, referring to the notebook bound with a tattered red ribbon that Miri now held to her chest with both arms, ducking her chin down over it protectively. "'S my drawing book, Miss Misora."

"Am I allowed to see?" Naomi asked, her soft smile growing a bit. Miri looked away and began to rock back and forth, shifting her weight from her heels to her toes.

"Please don't look, Miss Misora. If you look, you'll go away, and I don't want you to go away. I like you." That was simultaneously heart-melting and distressing. "Go away, Miri?"

"Like those mean people. I showed it to them and they went away," she said quietly, not looking at either of them. Though her speech was childish, Naomi could sense an intelligence in her – malnourished, perhaps, by lack of proper education. She watched the little girl sway, as if to the beat of an imaginary nursery jingle. _Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posies//ashes, ashes, we all fall down._ Naomi shook it out of her head, back to the present.

How could it be that the contents of a six-year-old's sketchbook was linked to the suicides of six people? There had to be some other explanation. "Miri, please, if you'll just let me-"

"May I see?" B's voice came from behind, startling Naomi. She'd almost forgotten he was there.

Miri looked up at his face, that scarred face and flat black eyes, and blinked. There was something in those eyes she saw, some silent communication between them that ultimately made Miri Lee _know, _just by looking, that Beyond Birthday was already far past whatever the contents of her notebook could touch. She nodded to him, silently tore a page from her notebook, folded it in half, and slid it through the thin, thin slot at the bottom of the glass wall.

He unfolded the paper carefully, holding it in such a way that no one on the other side of the glass could see. Stared at it for the longest time. Brushed it with his fingers. Finally, folded it in half again and slipped it back through the slot in the glass to Miri, who slid it carefully back into her notebook. "Miri, will you come visit us again tomorrow?" he asked.

She nodded again. "Yes, please. I liked visiting you," she said, in that little, little voice. Naomi opened the sliding doors, and Miri allowed the guards to lead her back out. When she disappeared into the next hallway, Naomi turned to face the glass again.

"B…that paper. What…?" but he just shook his head.

***

"B…" Naomi started again, "If that drawing really was…" (there were no words here that managed to get out of Naomi's mouth), "…then why did you give it back? Shouldn't we have confiscated the notebook?" Again, he responded with slow shake of his head.

"She'd have just drawn another one."

"We could have told them not to let her have any paper or pencils…" Agent Misora's voice trailed off, lost in the look B was giving her. It was so different from his usual weird sense of 'humor', different even from the other odd, intense stares she'd seen.

"Then she would have drawn it in her blood, Miss Misora." Naomi stiffened. Now B wasn't looking at her, wasn't looking at anything. Seeing through the glass but looking beyond the room.

"There are some things, Miss Misora, that you are not burdened with knowing. The drive of true insanity, how it finds away when no resources seem available, as strong as the will to live in animals and humans alike. There are some things, Miss Misora, that most are fortunate enough not to see, that push their way out from behind the eyes of a select, unlucky few. And even if the fire goes out in them, they still linger there, on in the eyes of the host until he or she finally expires…" For some reason, B had slowly brought up a hand to cover his own eye. Pulled his knees closer to his chest. The fear Naomi felt from this eerie recitation was awash with a strange sort of pity.

"And we just have to wait until that time."

* * *

Getting busy with school and tech crew, so this will probably be the last chapter for a while (not that I'm abandoning it, don't worry). So I hope you enjoy it~!


	6. Bonus Content

Sorry to disappoint you, but this isn't actually a chapter – just some art I've done. Hopefully it will tide you over until I can find time and inspiration to write, yes? *Runs from the overripe fruit being thrown*

Miri:

h t t p : / / i 2 7 0 . p h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / j j 1 1 0 / 1 1 1 k y t t i b a b y / D r a w i n g s / m i r i . j p g

Cover-art:

h t t p : / / i 2 7 0 . p h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / j j 1 1 0 / 1 1 1 k y t t i b a b y / D r a w i n g s / T C A C G c o v e r . j p g

You have to remove all the spaces in the url, though. Sorry 'bout that. You know how is.


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